parlor;
you would disgrace his kitchen, his stable. The streets are free to all,
you can accompany me in my drives; the churches are open to the vilest,
you can go with me there; but into the houses of my friends you _shall
not_ go; I will not so abuse friendship. You have counted upon me to
gain you _entree_ to Wardour and to a dozen houses, the thresholds of
which you will never cross. If you are not satisfied with this, then you
must be suited with less. I will not be seen with you at all."

Again Jasper Lamotte, vexed and alarmed for the _denouement_,
interposed; knowing she was striking at Burrill's chief weakness:

"But Sybil, Miss Wardour, here in her meetings with Burrill, tacitly
recognized his right to call."

She turned upon him swiftly.

"You know why she did it, sir; it is useless to discuss the question.
You may calm Mr. Burrill in any way you please, or can. You know the
terms on which he became my husband. He will continue my husband on my
own terms. He shall not cross the threshold of Wardour, protected by my
presence, and without it the door would close in his face. If Mr.
Burrill does not like my terms, let him say so. _It is not in his power
or yours to alter my decision._" And Sybil once more gathered together
her silken skirts, lest in passing they should brush the now collapsed
Mr. Burrill, and swept from the room.

[Illustration: "It is not in his power or yours to alter my decision."]

Mr. Lamotte turned to his wife.

"You must talk with that girl," he said, savagely, "what the devil ails
you all?"

Mrs. Lamotte arose and faced him.

"I should be wasting my breath," she replied, looking him straight in
the eye. "You have tried that girl a little too far, Mr. Lamotte," and
she followed after her daughter.

A roar, not unlike the bellow of a bull, recalled Mr. Lamotte to the
business of the moment. John Burrill, having recovered from his
momentary stupor of astonishment, was dancing an improvised, and
unsteady _can can_, among the chairs and tables, beating the air with
his huge fists, and howling with rage.

Seeing this, Mr. Lamotte did first, a very natural thing; he uttered a
string of oaths, "not loud, but deep," and next, a very sensible thing;
he rang for brandy and hot water.

And now the battle is in Mr. Lamotte's hands, why need we linger. Brandy
hot will always conquer a John Burrill.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE PLAY GOES ON.

When Sybil Burrill, after uttering her de